


Perspectives on Christmas

by incogneat_oh



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Christmas Tree, Gen, Minor Coarse language, brief angst, mostly pretty fluffy though, weird families bonding weirdly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 14:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13125348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogneat_oh/pseuds/incogneat_oh
Summary: In which the Batboys reminisce about their past Christmases.





	Perspectives on Christmas

It’s Christmas Eve and Tim can’t sleep. On the coffee table in front of him is a mug of long-cold cocoa, sitting in the crackling light of the fireplace. His knees are drawn to his chest, chin pillowed on his hands, and he’s staring at the lit-up Christmas tree. He looks contemplative, eyes unmoving and reflecting the glint of the ornaments on the tree.  
  
“Hello, Dick,” he says. He still hasn’t moved.  
  
“Hey, Timbo,” Dick walks around the couch. He looks sleep-rumpled, his clothes creased and hair mussed on one side. “Thought you fell asleep out here.”  
  
“Nope.” Tim’s doesn’t look away from the lights. “Still kicking. You know, metaphorically.”  
  
Dick sits beside him with a sleepy sigh. He stretches. “You don’t mind if I join you, right?”  
  
“Go right ahead.”   
  
It’s a long time before Dick breaks the silence. “So what’s up, little brother?” Non-invasive, an undertone of concern.  
  
“Mm. Just thinking.” Finally tearing his eyes away from the tree, he focusses on Dick and smiles slightly. “It’s just… kind of nice by the tree, you know?”   
  
“Yeah.” Dick follows his gaze back to the tree and smiles too. “Yeah, it is.”   
  
The silence stretches so long Dick’s eyelids start to droop. Then–  
  
“Shit, am I interrupting designated creepy silence time?”  
  
“Nnghf,” Dick says eloquently, opening his eyes. He sits up straighter. “Heya, Jason.”   
  
“What’s up, birdies? Angsting by the light of the Christmas tree in typical Bat-fashion?”  
  
Dick grins, and Tim’s lip twitches. “Nothing you can’t ruin, I’m sure. Sit down?”  
  
“Flattering as always, Dickie,” Jason says, flops down on the rug in front of the sofa.   
  
“Couldn’t sleep?”   
  
“Nah, the sound of your awkward silence was keeping me up.”  
  
“Companionable,” Tim murmurs.  
  
“What?”  
  
“The word you’re looking for is ‘companionable’.”   
  
Jason snorts, crosses his legs. “Yeah I don’t think so. So seriously, what’s got you ladies up at this hour?”  
  
Dick shrugs. “Saw the lights on and found Tim, so I thought I’d join him.”  
  
“That true, pretender?”   
  
“Keep it civil, Jay,” Dick says, and the younger man rolls his eyes.  
  
Tim talks over the top of what was sure to be a snarky response. “Yeah. Thought I’d sit up for a bit.”   
  
Apparently Jason and Dick can’t think of an appropriately smartass response, so silence falls again. They all stare at the bright-lit Christmas tree, and it's– for lack of a better word– comfortable. Nice. Like family should be.  
  
It’s Dick who speaks up first, after a long while. “Alfred sure does know how to decorate a Christmas tree.”  
  
Tim hums his agreement and Jason nods, his back to the sofa and its occupants. When he speaks, it’s a little hesitant, deceptively casual. “We had a tree, when I was a kid. Mom and me, I mean.” There’s a pause before he continues. “Fucking tiny thing. It was plastic, a couple hundred years old, can’t’ve been more than 3 feet tall.” There’s a smile in his voice now, too, but he hasn’t looked away from the tree. Dick and Tim look at him, instead. “It was pathetic. The branches were half-stripped, and we had to prop it up with newspaper on one side or else it’d tip. But every year, we’d put it up and decorate it– and god help you if you broke one of the ornaments, because we only had a handful of 'em– and it was the best. I mean, we were too poor to get fucking food half the time, but I’d get so excited about that shitty little tree in the corner of the apartment.”   
  
Dick glances at Tim, unwilling to speak, to discourage Jason– but Tim’s dark eyes are still on Jason’s back.   
  
Jason’s still smiling when he speaks again. “We couldn’t afford the electricity to have the lights on all the time, so we’d have an hour a night for the last two weeks up 'til Christmas. We’d sit on the couch and I’d stare at those fucking lights for the whole hour.” His hand picks at the carpet now, but he still seems happy in his nostalgia. “One year,” he starts, talks a bit quicker like he doesn’t want to stop. “I scrounged some change and got a bus into the city. I went to Gotham park, you know, where they decorate all the trees at Christmas-time? I stole a couple decorations for the tree. Mom was so pissed, goddamn. She made me go and take them back.” He’s laughing now, rueful and fond. “We couldn’t afford the bus-fare so we walked most of the way one night. It was probably mid-December, freezing cold, and she told me off the whole way there, and we sang carols the whole way back.”  
  
Dick breaks the resulting silence. He’s smiling wide, but it’s gentler and more sincere than usual. “Your mom sounds awesome, little wing.”   
  
“She was the best,” Jason agrees, and silence falls again. This time, it’s short lived.  
  
“Christmases at the circus were really fun,” Dick starts. “I mean, we didn’t really put up trees because we moved so much, but every year on Christmas Eve we’d go into the closest city, find the biggest Christmas tree, and all go there to open presents when it got dark. It used to be so exciting and loud, you know, a whole bunch of us and all these kids running around and screaming–”   
  
“–and backflipping–”  
  
“–and backflipping,” Dick laughs. “I think that was one of the hardest things to get used to when I moved here. Everything’s always so quiet. I mean, my first Christmas here– and you know, Alfie’s the best, he always makes it nice– but I just couldn’t get used to the fact it was just the three of us. It seemed so… lonely.”  
  
Jason half turns back to smirk, but it’s got less bite than usual. “’s'at why you’re so loud, Goldie?”  
  
Dick laughs again. “God, probably. Always compensating for Bruce.”   
  
The silence that falls is oddly expectant. Tim, though, is oblivious, eyes having slid from Dick back to the Christmas tree on completion of his story. Finally,  
  
“Well, Tim?”  
  
“Hm?” he startles.  
  
“Your turn, Babybird.”   
  
“Oh.” He chews his lips. “Um.”  
  
Jason snorts, shifts on the carpet. “Good story.”  
  
“Tell us about your tree?” Dick prompts, smiling encouragingly. “That’s what got us started, huh?”  
  
Tim’s hands twist in his lap for a full four seconds before he catches the tell, presses them together and settles them under his knees. “We, um, didn’t really decorate much. Some department stores offer fully decorated trees and a delivery service.” There’s a pause. “They were very… tasteful.”  
  
“You’ve seriously never decorated a tree?” Jason is staring, twisted around uncomfortably, features backlit by the fire.   
  
“Um,” says Tim, his typical response when asked personal questions. “Not 'til I came here. I was really surprised the first time Alfred asked me for help decorating. I didn’t, um. Realise. It was a tradition.”  
  
“Your parents didn’t really celebrate, then?” Dick frowns.  
  
“I wouldn’t say that,” Tim says evasively, sighs when Dick and Jason stare questioningly. “I mean, you know. We had Christmases. They bought me presents. We had roast turkey. That stuff, yeah.”  
  
“Tell you about Santa?”  
  
“Not really.” Tim fidgets uncomfortably. “But I didn’t really believe anyway. O-one year,” he licks his lips. “They were on a trip, but um. They phoned me and said Santa might be late. They, um, came back on the 27th and tried to convince me it was the 25th anyway.” In response to Dick’s unasked question, he answers, “I was 6. I kind of. Stopped believing. After that.”   
  
“Shit,” Jason says, after a pause. “You’re maybe even more fucked up than the rest of us, Baby B.”   
  
“Coming from you that means a lot,” Tim says, and Jason actually laughs.   
  
“Hey Dick?” Jason asks suddenly, facing the tree again.  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“Remember… my first Christmas here?”  
  
Dick grins. “Yeah, little wing. I remember.”   
  
Tim looks between them. “Clue me in?”  
  
“Well okay, it was when Pops and Dickie were still having problems, yeah?” Jason starts, already smirking. “I was a freshly hatched little robin, and awkwardness abounded. Anyway, it was Christmas morning– and there was a whole department store worth of presents, I was so surprised– and me and Bruce and Alfred were just sitting around the tree, you know, Alfred and Bruce talking and me crashing into the walls playing with all the new shit I got, when the doorbell rang.”  
  
Dick’s grin grows, and Jason continues the story.   
  
“So Alfred went to go answer it. And after a few minutes, Dickiebird bounds in, sticks _a Santa hat_ on Bruce and comes over to me. Now Pops has his Bat-face on, you know–  _still with the hat_ – he’s all defensive posture and shit, because he has no idea what Dick is gonna do.” Jason’s laughing now. “And Dick, he pulls this sprig of mistletoe– fucking _mistletoe_ – from behind his back, and holds it over our heads. He gives me a big, wet smooch on the cheek and yells, 'Happy Christmas, little wing!’ ”  
  
Dick cracks up. “I forgot about that part.” He starts to laugh a little harder. “And you went bright red– the same colour as your pyjamas.”  
  
“No kidding, I just about thought Bruce’s eyes were gonna pop out,” Jason says, and he’s still grinning wide. “Of all the shit he expected you to pull, that was not on his list.”   
  
They share a laugh, and Dick says, “I love trolling Bruce.”  
  
There’s a rustle from the doorway behind them, and a sleepy-looking Damian emerges from the dark.   
  
“Hey, Dami,” Dick greets, pats the sofa beside him. “We didn’t wake you, did we?”  
  
“No,” Damian says, plopping himself onto the couch, rubbing his eyes. “I got up to get a drink and heard voices.” He scowls tiredly, eyes unfocused. “You invite everyone here but me?”  
  
“We all kind of met up here, little D,” Dick explains, and Damian sighs, flopping back on the couch.  
  
“If none of you are in bed,” he says, frowning. “When will Santa come?”  
  
Jason chokes down a cough, and he and Tim share a glance. There is a something of a stunned silence, until Dick snorts.  
  
“Damian, you troll, don’t be nasty.”  
  
The boy’s face contorts into its signature sneer. “Grayson had me watch some _Christmas cartoons_.”  
  
“Hell, kid,” Jason sputters. “Don’t scare me like that, I thought you were serious.”  
  
Tim’s lips twitch in a smile. “You gonna try pull that one on Bruce tomorrow?”  
  
“Of course,” Damian says, rolling his eyes.  
  
–  
  
It’s a little while before Alfred finds them. The butler, wearing his usual attire and a Santa hat, sighs at the sight before him, sets down bulging bags of Christmas gifts in the corner.  
  
“How, exactly, is Father Christmas supposed to show his face if none of the good boys and girls are in bed?” he asks, expecting no answer.  
  
Tim, however, stirs from his sleep. Dick is asleep with his head on Tim’s shoulder, Damian pressed tight against Dick’s side, and even Jason, sitting on the floor, is resting his head against Tim’s knee. They look surprisingly comfortable.  
  
“Come along, young masters,” Alfred says long-sufferingly. “Bed time.”   
  
Tim nudges Dick awake and Jason startles himself into awareness, but, sleepily, rubbing their eyes and stretching, they start to trudge out.   
  
“Happy Christmas, Alfred,” Jason mumbles, on his way out.  
  
“Mm, happy Christmas,” Tim concurs, offers him a sleepy smile.   
  
Dick scoops up the still-sleeping Damian and makes for the door. “G'night, Alfie,” he says, adjusting the sleeping boy in his arms. “Happy Christmas. Oh, and nice hat.”   
  
  
-END-

**Author's Note:**

> Also available on [tumblr!](http://incogneat-oh.tumblr.com/post/14719392589/perspectives-on-christmas)
> 
> I hope you enjoy the season whatever it is you celebrate.


End file.
